


A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

by Aeriel



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Intrigue, M/M, POV First Person, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: After Phèdre and Joscelin seemingly disappear in La Serenissima while on the trail of Melisande Shahrizai, Alcuin goes to Barquiel L'Envers with a proposition.
Relationships: Alcuin nó Delaunay/Barquiel L'Envers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SouthernContinentSkies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernContinentSkies/gifts).



“Alcuin nó Delaunay de Montrève.” Barquiel L’Envers lounged in his seat, amidst Akkadian pillows and other touches that suggested his time abroad. “To what do I owe the most unusual pleasure of your company?”

I had come to visit him at his residence in the City of Elua, a mere stone’s throw away from my own lodgings, so I had not bothered to send word of my coming and— perhaps recklessly— only brought one man with me, Baptiste, who was unarmed and stood behind me as two of Barquiel’s men stood on either side of him. 

“You say that as though I hadn’t been here before,” I returned. “I even attended one of your fêtes last year.”

“On Phèdre’s arm,” Barquiel pointed out. “And I can only assume her agenda. How is Phèdre, by the way?”

“You know perfectly well,” I said, because I wanted to know how quick his spies were, and if he would be honest with me. 

“No, I cannot say that I do. Nor, it seems, does anyone else.” Barquiel leveled his violet gaze at me. “So there’s no point pretending you believe she’s still in La Serenissima. I ask again— have you had word from her?”

I shook my head “Nor from Joscelin. It can only mean one thing— Melisande Shahrizai has made a move.” 

Barquiel frowned, tapping his ringed fingers on the arm of his chair. “La Serenissima is a viper’s nest— it will not be easy to untangle the petty schemers from those in league with Melisande.” 

I was pleased he had not bothered trying to convince me it was aught else than Melisande that was responsible for Phèdre’s disappearance. “Nevertheless, I intend to try.”

“Alone?” Barquiel’s eyebrows lifted for a moment, and then, slowly, he began to laugh. “Or is this how you ask for my assistance?”

“No,” I said softly, sinking to my knees in the manner which I had once been taught. “This is how.”

Truth be told, I did not entirely trust Barquiel L’Envers. But he had resources at his disposal that I could only dream of, and he did not strike me as the type to willingly choose Melisande over Ysandre de la Courcel, his own niece. 

And if he had been coaxed unwilling into Melisande’s service, well, I would not learn of it by keeping him at arm’s length. 

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Barquiel’s face. He knew as well as I did that I was offering more than my wits, although I had not served Naamah in years. And rusty though my skills might have become, I say without vanity that I was still a sight worth beholding at the age of twenty-three. 

“Well,” he said, after a significant pause. “A tempting offer, to be sure. I take it this means you trust me not to stab you in the manner of Vitale Bouvarre?”

I stiffened— I had not heard that hated name in some time, and it brought to mind old wounds, both figurative and literal. It took great effort to keep my voice steady when I replied, “If you have not conspired to murder any D’Angeline peers, then I fail to see any reason to compare yourself to him. I am offering you more than I ever granted Bouvarre. I will spy for you, and tell you all I know… providing you help me locate Phèdre and bring her back home safe and sound.”

“And the Cassiline?” 

I inclined my head. “Him too. But it is Phèdre who takes precedence. Joscelin himself would say as much.”

Barquiel stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I accept your offer… with one caveat.”

“Name it,” I said, wary. 

“I have no need of an unwilling bed partner.” Barquiel sat up, slowly, his eyes raking over me with cool assessment. “They say you took no pleasure in Naamah’s service.”

“An oversimplification.” I smiled, faintly. I had tricks to keep myself engaged while with a patron I disliked, but I did not foresee the need to use them with L’Envers. “It pleases me that you are concerned for me, my lord, but believe me when I say that I would not have offered if I did not find the prospect of lying with you… enticing.”

“Good, because I’ve no wish to commit sacrilege, however inadvertent.” Barquiel’s eyes were still on me, his tongue lingering on the last syllable as I held his gaze. “Come here.”

I rose up, crossing to him with slow deliberation, drawing out his anticipation. When I was within arm’s reach, I half expected him to grab hold of me, but instead he merely reached out and cupped my chin, drawing a thumb over the seam of my mouth as I smiled at him. 

“I wonder…” he drawled, leaning in close. “What would Delaunay say if he could see us now?”

It was as if he had thrown a bucket of ice water over me— I flinched instinctively, very nearly biting his thumb in the process.

“Do not mock me, my lord.” It took all my strength to keep my voice steady. “Or have you mistaken me for Phèdre? Only one of us finds pleasure in pain.”

Barquiel smiled, his grip tightening. “I’ve always wondered about that, to tell the truth. Delaunay always said you had an impeccable memory for lineages. You know that House L’Envers has mingled many times over with the scions of Kushiel. And yet you came here, offering your body as well as your mind. Can you truly say you expected naught but tender touches?”

There was some truth in what he said, but something in his approach rang false to me. I did not have Phèdre’s instinct for guessing a patron’s true desire, but Barquiel was another matter. For much of the past year, since Phèdre and I had returned to court with the purpose of uncovering Melisande’s accomplices, Barquiel and I had danced around each other, and I had observed him as closely as he let me. 

There was no true pleasure in his eyes now. He wished to frighten me away.

Well, I did not frighten easily.

“I expected to be treated with some respect,” I said softly. “You know what I am worth, better than most still living. I do not make this offer lightly. There has been no one… since him.”

“An outcome that would no doubt have pleased Delaunay’s vanity immeasurably,” Barquiel said dryly. “For my part, however, I do not flatter myself that I cut so dashing a figure as to persuade you to cast aside years of celibacy purely for the sake of raw desire.”

I did not insult him by pretending surprise at his suspicions. “I understand your wariness, my lord. And if you do not trust me, there is little reason to contemplate this arrangement. But I believe we share two crucial goals: to keep Ysandre de la Courcel on the throne, and to foil Melisande Shahrizai’s plans, whatever they may be. It seems quite foolish to me not to join forces at this juncture.” I paused, though not long enough to let him interject. “As for my celibacy, it has not been so perfectly kept as you might imagine… I have been tempted before, though nothing ever came of those temptations. If you do not want me, I will carry on as I have done since he died.”

I begun to turn, but Barquiel’s hand on my shoulder stopped me, as I had hoped he would.

“Hold a moment, boy.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I have not been a boy in some time, my lord.”

Barquiel snorted. “You’re of an age with Ysandre, but that only serves to make you young enough to be my nephew. If you speak the truth, then indeed, I see no need for us to work at cross-purposes. But if you are to spy effectively for me, no one must know there is a connection between us.”

“We will not meet here again,” I agreed. 

“Still, this meeting requires an explanation,” A wolfish grin tugged at Barquiel’s fine mouth. “And I cannot deny your proposition solves that neatly.”

My heart raced, but I controlled the degree of excitement I let show. “I am pleased to hear it.”

We left the receiving room for a smaller— but no less luxurious— chamber, with cushions strewn about and low furniture surrounding a fountain. There was a sideboard with seasonal fruits and cheeses, and a carafe of wine with two glasses. When Barquiel poured for me, I accepted a glass, sipping politely as he filled his own glass and slid in comfortably beside me, his free arm wrapping loosely around my shoulders. 

We were now truly alone. 

I hadn’t been so nervous since my first assignation, though it was a different kind of nervousness now, more akin to the night I decided to offer myself to Anafiel. I knew what I was about, and I knew what I wanted, even if it was a dangerous game I was playing. 

Barquiel took a swig of wine, smiling as I turned to face him. I returned his smile, letting my knee brush against his. 

“Percy de Somerville still speaks highly of you, you know,” he remarked. “I think he regrets not having asked for you again before you finished your marque.”

I remembered that night, though my memories were not quite as rosy as de Somerville’s. I remembered feeling smothered by the scent of apples, my eyes following the shapes of shadows on the wall while I waited for him to finish, letting out soft, deliberate noises to encourage him as I imagined another set of arms around me, another voice whispering my name—

“I would rather not speak of those days, my lord Barquiel,” I said evenly, taking another sip. 

“As you wish.” He grinned again, reaching to curl a finger around a lock of my white hair. “So? What would you prefer we discuss?”

I set aside my glass and leaned into his touch, meeting his violet gaze. “I’d just as soon not talk at all.”

I slid into his lap, or perhaps he pulled me on top of him. Either way, there was nothing tentative in our first kiss. A thrill raced down my spine as his hands found purchase on the small of my back, and then lower, tugging loose my shirt as our mouths explored each other.

As we broke apart for air, I pulled my shirt over my head and twisted around to toss it aside, letting Barquiel catch a glimpse of my completed marque. 

Barquiel’s hands were warm against my bare skin, and a pleasant shiver ran down my spine as his thumbs brushed over my nipples. He drew me into another kiss as his hands slid down the flat planes of my stomach to the laces of my breeches. 

This was further than I’d allowed myself to go with anyone since that dreadful night that had changed all our lives, and yet, for once, in that moment I was not thinking of Anafiel. Perhaps because I knew Barquiel knew exactly what I was, and neither of us was under any illusion that this was about love. 

I did want his assistance, and I was perfectly willing to spy for him— providing we truly were on the same side. 

I also wanted him. 

After months of dancing around each other trading barbs and backhanded compliments, his presence exhilarated me. The danger of my situation did not escape me— nor did it cool my blood.

I sucked in a harsh breath as Barquiel unlaced my breeches, shifting deliberately in his lap— and was rewarded with a noise I’d never heard escape Barquiel’s generous mouth, something delightfully close to a moan.

In the next moment I was flat on my back, or close to it, my head supported by the arm of the chaise longue, panting as I watched Barquiel shed his purple Akkadian robe to reveal strong arms and a torso with its share of scars. 

He looked at me then, his burning gaze heating me from the inside as he leaned in closer. I flinched when he touched the scar on my ribs, still raised and ugly after all these years.

“Bouvarre or Melisande?” Barquiel said brusquely.

“Bouvarre,” I confirmed. 

And then, quite unexpectedly, he bent and kissed it. 

“Do not think House L’Envers has forgotten what you risked your life to uncover that night.” He planted his hands on either side of my head, voice low and husky. “I know well what your services are worth. And you know what I will do if you think to double-cross me.”

“I do,” I said softly, meeting his gaze. “I would expect nothing else from you, my lord.”

_And if you are what you say you are, I will never betray you._

When he took me, after what felt like at least an hour of teasing, I let out a shuddering gasp, nearly overwhelmed by the feel of him inside me. Despite his earlier threats, he was gentle with me at first, which I appreciated.

And when I bit his ear and whispered, “Harder,” his violet eyes gleamed and he did not hold back, which I also appreciated. 

Afterwards, he poured more wine for both of us, and we lifted our glasses to toast our new alliance.

“To Anafiel Delaunay.” He smirked.

As though he could hurt me in the same way twice in one night.

“To Isabel L’Envers,” I returned, clinking our glasses together. “And Ysandre de la Courcel.”

“Ysandre,” he agreed, and we drank. 

I would learn nothing from him that night, I knew. Barquiel L’Envers was not a man to casually spill secrets after one dalliance, particularly not to one he knew full well would understand every word. Confirming his motivations would be the most difficult task I had yet set myself— and the most interesting in some time.

Of course, if he brought me news of Phèdre or Joscelin, alive, that would be an answer in itself, but I feared such news would be slow in coming, if at all. Melisande would not have killed Phèdre with her own hands, but she was cunning enough to devise any number of ways to remove her from the playing field.

Most importantly, I had to keep Barquiel from guessing that I still suspected him. He would only let his guard down around a trusted associate, and so that is what I would become.

Barquiel L’Envers was not a man to be toyed with lightly— but then, neither am I. 


End file.
